The Apple Doesn't Fall
by Panda Hallows
Summary: Layla's parents have revealed themselves as villains and attempt an assassination of The Commander. When it comes to Layla, what were they supposed to do when their rock became rubble? R/R check it out!
1. Chapter 1

**Panda Note:** Hola! So I've been lurking around the Sky High section for a good two weeks and even added some fics to my favorites. I really enjoyed what everyone was doing with it, because frankly Disney failed us all. It threw me for a loop when Will kissed Layla. It wasn't meant to be for them but then that's why we have fanfiction, to right the wrongs of our favorite things. I thought I'd take a crack at a Warren and Layla multi-chapter fic. It's been tumbling through my head for the past week and I just felt that it was time to give it a go. Please all the Sky High peeps let me know what you _really_ think of it. That's the only way I can try harder and do better!

**4-11-10:** If you're reading this then this has been beta-ed by an awesome lady named Linda. I also wanted to tell you to go to my profile, there's a link to a **SOUNDTRACK for this fic**!

**Disclaimer:** Trust me, Disney is lucky they own it; otherwise I'd be changing A LOT of crap they messed up. But like I said; no owning over here!

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The Apple Doesn't Fall**

**Chapter One

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Two weeks.

How could two weeks have gone by without a word? Warren Peace continued to wonder about this as he walked along a long white fence. He had been walking for a good half hour trying to locate _her_ house. He should have known something was amiss when she didn't show up for their Saturday night gathering at the Paper Lantern. They had been meeting there since he graduated last year. It was usually the whole gang, but for the past month or so it had been only the two of them. He would never admit it out loud, but he rather liked it that way. She always seemed more _herself_ when it was just them.

He could not forgive himself for being out of the loop of his dear friend Layla's life. He had been so busy saving lives and stopping fires while at the same time working as the manager for the Paper Lantern weekdays. There was no excuse for his lack of attention to the fiery red-head who had somehow wormed her way into his heart as one of his best friends. He could never tell Stronghold this, however.

The story had been all over "their" radio stations and special hero television channels. Will had called him the moment he got word, but something in his voice told Warren that the younger man was reluctant to see their red-headed hippie friend under these circumstances.

Much to the shock and disbelief of their friends and daughter, exactly two weeks before, the Williams' had revealed themselves as villains.

The story behind it all was kind of sketchy. But only the Commander knew what had really happened in the span of those three hours. It shook the older man to the core—to Warren's knowledge—that people who he had known for more than twenty years could be super villains. Even when the investigation was underway, there weren't any real signs.

The news reports all said the same things about Lola and Kenneth Williams:_ "__…it is still unclear on how long this ploy had been brewing, but the attack on the Commander was a clear indication of their intent. The couple known best for their assistance in the rebuilding of the rainforest in Costa Rica is now being held in a holding cell. They are awaiting sentence for their actions…"_They went on to divulge that Kenneth had used his power over plant life and insects to infect the Commander with his wife using animals as _guards._

From what Warren could tell, what really bothered and disturbed Will was that Layla's mother had tried to kill his father. It was all just a big mess and he knew that Layla was in hiding, possibly scared and ashamed of her parent. All of this should have given him enough of a clue as to why she had missed two whole weeks of school.

It was times like this that he wished he'd offered even once to walk her to her new home. Then he wouldn't be worried and wandering around trying to find her house.

The Williams' had moved to a smaller home at the end of Layla's sophomore year. They moved without any real reason at the time. Layla missed the fact that she and Will were next door neighbors, even after the breakup.

They lasted all of three months before ending in a mutual agreement that they were close to committing some form of incest. Warren told Magenta once, and only once, that the pair would not last more than four months. She wholeheartedly agreed stating that they were _awkward_ as a couple.

As a senior in high school, Layla couldn't afford to miss any classes, especially not fourteen days of them! Not that he was the one to speak of the importance of education. Clearly that was Layla's department.

She was the reason he'd done so well by the end of his senior year. If it had been anyone else trying to_ help_ him with his education, he would have lit them on fire and let them roast! But she had a gift in getting him to see reason without him even realizing it.

Maybe that was why Warren felt it was up to him to _save_ her from _this. _ He was the only person in their group to really know what it was like to have a parent completely do a 180 on you, leaving you to wonder, "W_hat the hell?"_

He'd done enough of that as a child and even as an adult to know that it ate you up inside. However, Warren and Layla were nothing alike. While he could handle the looks and rumors, she couldn't. She was a strong person but something like this could tear her apart; hence the absence from school and avoidance of her friends.

He wasn't sure if he should be offended that she had not even called him! She knew where to find him and that he'd pretty much drop everything if she were in trouble. He wasn't one to invade other people's lives uninvited, but if asked, he would. If only she would have called!

He could always count on Layla to stay positive and keep everyone together when shit would hit the fan. What were they supposed to do when their rock became rubble?

Magenta had told Warren that she'd stopped by Layla's house, knowing exactly where she now lived. Warren got the address from her. When there was no one stirring, she just assumed that Layla had moved on.

But Warren greatly doubted that.

Still in his Paper Lantern attire from his part time shift on Friday night, he made his way toward her house.

Once he turned the corner, Layla's house was the easiest to pick out. Along both sides of the street, the front yards of each two story home were flourishing with fields of grass.

The only house on the street that stood out was four houses down on the left. The grass looked wilted to a crisp, like someone had set it on fire. He would know. The two trees were slumped over; branches fallen to the ground. Where he assumed a nice bed of roses once sat, was now dried up brush and dead sticks in its place. With vines completely encasing the entire estate, the house was another sad sight.

The instant he saw it, Warren knew that Layla had to be there.

He stood outside the faded white fence, hands stuffed deep into his pockets, looking wistfully at the house. The sun had long since bid ado to the night, allowing the stars to lay claim to the sky.

Warren assumed he must have looked a bit suspicious standing outside of what looked like an abandoned house.

"It's a sad sight, isn't it?" questioned a quivery voice to his right.

Though he hadn't heard an approach, he didn't let on that he had been surprised by this sudden presence.

"Yeah," he mumbled, not looking at the person who owned the voice, trying to remain aloof.

"Oddest thing, just a few weeks ago it was the brightest house on the block", the elderly woman beside him said almost as much to herself as to Warren. But then she turned her head upward to look at him with her pop-bottle glasses, only to squint harder.

"Yeah?" he found himself repeating, but as more of a question. He was not sure if he should be saying too much to this woman.

"It's almost as though the whole house is depressed," she sighed quietly. "No one's come or gone for weeks now."

"Hmm," he was growing more and more surprised that this woman barely noticed him. It didn't seem to even matter that he was there.

"Nice family," she went on absently. "Kept to themselves mostly and had a beautiful daughter; always helping me with my garden, quite a green thumb on that girl."

"Layla you mean?" he now asked, curious.

"Oh yes! Sweet, sweet girl," she glanced up at him again as though noticing him for the first time. "You a classmate of hers?"

"Yeah," even though technically they were no longer classmates.

"Not much of a talker, are ya?"

"Nope."

"Makes sense, Layla must talk enough for the both of you," she joked. She then patted his arm and looked up at him still squinting and said, "If you see her tell her my _Zantedeschia rehmannii's _are coming in nicely." With that she hobbled off. He lost sight of her once she turned onto her own property, two houses down, behind the seven foot tall hedges next door to Layla's house.

The walk to the front door was slow as he dragged his feet along. Who knew what he would find once he actually broke through the tightly wrapped vines. Although he was _volunteering_ for this venture, he was now a bit _nervous_ about what might be there. Part of him wanted to be ticked off at Stronghold for punking him out on one of his best friends; a friend who needed him. The other part he _understood_ to some degree. That still didn't change the urge in the pit of his stomach to drill a fire-fueled fist through Stronghold's skull.

He found his hands tracing over the thick vines blocking off the windows and front door. They were still _fresh_ from what he could tell. They were still new, and strangely hadn't been drained of their life.

It moved. The vine _twitched_ under his fingers. Warren continued to run his hands over them, carefully at first, and then more deliberately. It was almost as though they recognized him; not that he was too familiar with Layla's vines, but that is what it felt like.

Sighing, he knew what he had to do. He had to cut his way inside. His hands burned as bright angry flames slicing through the vines like a knife through butter. Somehow he managed to avoid setting them on fire, while still causing them to fall off, exposing the windows.

When the door was no longer blocked off, he checked it and found that it was locked.

"Of course it's locked," he sighed and pulled out a bobby-pin from his hair. "Time for some old school," he told no one in particular.

He had done this so many times that it had become second nature to him. Most thought him a criminal, but he had only used it on his own house, always forgetting his keys.

With a few clicks and twists, the door soon opened and he pushed it back cautiously. Inside wasn't any better; there were more vines inside than out.

He found himself walking over the threshold and closing the door behind him, hoping no one had seen him go inside. It was deadly quiet. From what he could tell, there was no movement anywhere. Not even the vines seemed to notice him there. At first.

Seconds later he could faintly hear soft music playing upstairs. The melody he heard gave him a clear indication that Layla was up there. Either she was, or there were other plant controlling hippies squatting in her house. No one had played that song in a long, long time! It definitely had to be Layla and her record collection of oldies.

Before his thought process could go any further, he found himself trapped inside a cocoon of vines. Under normal circumstances, he would have just burned them with his fire. But at this strange moment in time, he found that he _couldn't._ He felt faint; like he had the time he was trapped by Speed. Just as he was about to black out, he saw a blur of red.

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Panda Note:** I don't usually write cliff-hangers or stop suddenly but I figured this was the perfect place to stop and get some opinions on it. Let me know what you thought in a PM or review. Bring it on!!!


	2. Chapter 2

**Panda Note:** So hey! I wanted to make sure this was just right so I've been holding onto this chapter all day, going over it with my beta, Linda. She's so great! Though part of it is still unbeta-ed most of it is, I'm posting it because it's pretty much ready. Also I stated this before in chapter one in the edited thing that I made a **'soundtrack'** to this story that has a collection of songs that fits the storyline as well as works with the characters, so I hope you'll go download it. I listen to it while I write and I hope you will give it a go. It can be found on my profile! Enjoy this awesome chapter!

**Disclaimer:** I own something but it's not Sky High that would be all Disney's. Sorry.

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The Apple Doesn't Fall**

**Chapter Two**

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It was dark and slightly blurry when he managed to open one of his eyes. Warren first noticed that he was no longer on a mahogany paneled floor but rather on a soft object. The next thing that came into view was a pair of big deep chocolate eyes, looking at him with concern.

"Warren?" she asked. "Can you hear? Oh what am I asking? Are you okay?" Everything seemed to come out in a jumbled mess, barely real sentences.

In his anger, he wanted to snap someone's neck**.** He found only Layla hovering over him, her hand at the base of his temple. Her hand was getting a little _distracting _as he tried and failed to avoid any thoughts of how _nice _it felt.

The urge to hurt someone wasn't strong enough to do harm to his friend, whom he could never hurt. But there was a burning itch in his hands to do some major harm to those vicious vines.

"What happened?" he croaked, without realizing it. He could remember—before passing out—thinking about setting the vines on fire, but found that he just couldn't do it**,** and that it was hard to breathe**. ** It didn't make sense.

As he took in a few painful deep breaths**,** her face began to fill in more and more. At first he thought he was imagining it, but there she was, just not at all like herself. She had on a hooded sweatshirt at least three sizes too big, in the blackest black he had ever seen. There was also no sign of her flaming red hair, for it was also confined underneath the hood.

Layla had lost all of her colors, the ones that made her who she was. Who was she if she wasn't herself? Shaking off the random thought he tried to focus on the words coming from her lips.

"Wait, say all that again," at least his own voice sounded better that time.

"I said, my vines knocked the wind out of you and you passed out—sorry," her bottom lip puckered as her eyebrows scrunched closer to her eyes.

"It's okay**.** Don't worry about it," he pushed her _helping_ hands away and sat up, only to find his mind a bit dizzy from the sudden movement. "I'm fine."

Once the room came back into focus**,** he realized they were in a cozy living room, although it was very dark. Apparently the moon had decided that it was time to make its rounds and was sending beams of light into the window, what could be seen of it anyway.

Layla leaned back and plopped her rear-end onto the coffee table adjacent to the couch and folded her hands into her lap.

"Layla…" he started after a moment.

"I know, I know. You want to know why I didn't call you or why I've been hiding out or maybe even why all the lights are out." There was something different about her voice; it wasn't as bouncy or bubbly as he remembered. Even her eyes looked drained of their life as she looked into his.

As unafraid of most things as he was, _this_ person sitting before him _terrified _him. Not because he felt in danger; more for the fact that he feared that they'd actually lost their Layla to this unfortunate _thing_ that had happened.

"We can talk about all of it later, once we get you out of this house," he told her firmly with a serious look. This had been his plan when he set out to find her house in the first place.

"I don't think—well I—look Warren—I don't know if—," she sputtered, sparks of the old Layla coming out; though it didn't last long.

"No excuses," he stood and she followed suit. "Go and pack some clothes and whatever you need**.** You're coming to stay with me."

It was final**.** She couldn't continue to stay inside a house that had no heat nor lights. Who knew if she had any food left either, despite using her powers to conjure up a tree filled with fruit**.** She could not and would not continue to live like she did something _wrong_ by just being related to the accused. Layla was the _last_ person anyone would ever associate with villainy, or any kind of evil!

Warren _refused_ to allow Layla to blame herself for what had happened when she had nothing to do with it. The distant memory of his first day at Sky High came forth for a moment but he shoved it back down. There was no way that he would allow the looks and whispers to get to Layla, not like they had for him. He didn't want Layla to become _him__**!**_ She was too good to have that happen to her, to become bitter and angry all the time. Shaking it off**,** he returned to the present.

It all seemed to sink into her jumbled thoughts as she rushed up the stairs in the dark to gather her belongings. Warren noticed the hesitation in her eyes when he boldly suggested she stay with him—suddenly realizing that he now lived alone in a one bedroom apartment. Two months ago his mother had decided that she could benefit from a little travel and with his blessing, left. He grew used to being alone in his comfortable little apartment downtown, though an occasional twelve story Robot could be troublesome. The location of his apartment had yet to cause any trouble, seeing as how it was nicely perched on the line between suburbia and city life.

He could hear Layla just above him, chucking things about in a frenzy getting ready. This gave him plenty of time to adjust his eyes to the area he occupied. He'd been to her other house next door to the Stronghold's before.

No memory of anything amiss with the Williams jumped out at him when he'd seen them those few times. Then again they always made themselves scarce whenever their group would watch movies.

Just as his mind was about to take a trip down memory lane, Layla came down with a duffle bag gripped in her hands. She still had on that sweater, which seemed to be hiding even more of her face. He hadn't noticed before**,** but she was also wearing a pair of dark green sweat pants. It was so unlike her that even in the dark it practically jumped out at him.

"You ready Hippie?" he asked**,** still eying her skeptically.

"I suppose," she sighed. He gave a nod of approval. As she was about to head to the front door, he stopped her and snatched the bag out of her hands. "I can carry my own bag," she frowned, clearly disliking the fact that she was being treated as a weakling. That hadn't been his intent, but it was Layla after all and she took it as a personal attack against her equality.

"But you're not going to now, come on," he ordered, placing the bag in his right hand. Putting his left hand on her back, Warren led her to the front door. "Just let me do this," he continued as he shot her a helpless look he rarely used on her. But it seemed to work.

Layla never knew what to do when he did that, because she was used to him just _knowing_ what to do most times. Warren liked people to think he knew what he was doing, but a lot of the time the bravado was improvised and he used his over-confidence as a shield.

"So are we walking to you place?" she asked after they had been walking down the sidewalk for eight minutes.

He glanced over at her and found that she wasn't even looking up at him. Normally whenever she talked to him she'd make eye contact; this was all too different for him.

"No, we've got to go The Paper Lantern to get my ride."

"Alright."

There was no conversation for ten more minutes**; **not even when they reached their destination and loaded her bag onto his bike. Not even when she stood there fiddling with the hem of the oversized sweater while he prepared for their drive.

Warren knew it was _typical_ for someone like him to have a motorcycle but he rather liked being able to weave through traffic and fit in small spaces. Layla had been on it many times before but didn't like riding when he went too fast.

He climbed on the bike and she followed after, gripping the sides of his waist tightly—just like she used to. He smiled a little, knowing that she was still inside of Layla begging to be pulled out. He could picture her pressed into his back with her eyes locked shut.

When Warren's apartment came into view**,** he slowed and wedged his bike between two cars. The bike's noise died down as he set the break and turned the front wheel away from the curb. He took this time to take a few breaths of cool night air in as Layla detached herself from the back of the bike.

She stood on the curb and shifted her eyes about as though someone were looking for her. He knew that eventually someone from the judicial system would want to talk with her about what happened to her parents. It was obvious that the time wasn't now; otherwise they would have visited her already. No one could really do much what with the Commander being treated at a medical center for poison.

Thoughts of his own _visit_ came to his brain's surface but he shoved them away and focused on reality.

Wordlessly**,** he grabbed the duffle bag and led Layla toward a jet black door that was squished between tall, thin black windows; two on each side of the door. Just as he put the key into the door**,** he noticed her glance up at the fire escapes just above their heads. Before he fully unlocked the door he could faintly see the lime green glow from the narrow hallway through the window.

Pushing the door open, he allowed her to step in before he followed behind, closing the door. She stood awkwardly to the side like a nervous child as he started for the staircase to the left of the entrance. Despite Layla's apprehension, she trailed behind him up the stairs all the way to the seventh floor and passed five doors.

The door unlocked and opened. He stepped inside and dropped her bag onto the couch to his left. He went about his usual routine of removing his restricting hair tie as well as removing his leather jacket. It wasn't until he reached the kitchen area that he noticed Layla hadn't stepped over the threshold.

"Layla?" he called, poking his head out from the kitchen. She stood outside the door drowning in her clothing and looking at him in petrified silence. "Come inside, would ya?" This time he stepped out of the kitchen and stood a full five feet from the front door.

"I'm not sure if this is a good idea—I mean—well—you see when—," she rambled.

"Look," he started, putting force into his words. "I'm not going to take advantage of you. You should know that already. Don't you trust me at all?" He tried his best to keep the pang of hurt out of his face. They'd spent enough time together to establish a comfort zone and this was beyond safe.

"Wait, of course I do Warren. I'm just—you know—it's just weird," her shoulders slumped as she realized how foolish she seemed. Layla shuffled her feet across the floor until she was standing passed the frame of the door. "I'm sorry, I'm being ridiculous about this and all you're trying to do is help me. You really are a great friend and you have no idea how much—," she rambled before stopping mid-speech.

His strides were slow and steady as he came to stand in front of her hands rising to the sides of her arms.

"Just trust that you'll be alright here." His voice was as soothing as he could muster without making a fool out of himself. "Go have a seat and I'll get you something to drink."

With a slight nod she headed for the couch and plopped down next to the duffle bag. She heard the door shut and a number of locks clicking. Even a hero needed to lock his doors at night.

"Here, drink this," a cup of orange juice was presented in front of her, which she gladly took.

"Thanks," she glanced around and took small sips from the mug cupped in her hands.

Moments passed before his voice broke through the silence. "So, would you like to talk tonight or tomorrow?"

He was sitting on the couch perpendicular to the one she was sitting on, elbows on his knees. The whole night he'd been waiting for this conversation and now that it was so close he felt like it shouldn't happen; almost.

The dam hadn't broken yet; it barely had a crack in it. He knew what was to come once the lines in that crack grew and all the contents spilled out. What he didn't know was if he was at all ready for when that happened. Could he be, should he be, the catalyst for that?

It felt as though she was still in the early stages of shock and denial. Warren was familiar with the vacant lost expression because he'd seen it reflected in his own face before. It didn't fit well with Layla's face, which seemed so off color.

"I'd rather shower first, if that's okay?" Just asking that seemed to bring a little color to her face. The prospect of even showering while in the same space with him was embarrassing to her.

"Sure," he stood and grabbed her bag. "I'll give you the tour," she reluctantly followed. He pointed out that the kitchen was right across from the living room and down a narrow hallway was the bedroom—right—and bathroom—across on the left. "Go on in and get a shower and we can talk later," he instructed and then walked back to the living room.

It wasn't until he heard running water and the jostling of the shower curtains that he allowed himself to relax a bit. He hadn't realized how tense he was the whole night.

No one would dare call him comforting; he was practically as stiff as a cardboard box when it came to consoling someone. Warren had no clue on how to handle this different Layla at all. He thought just being with her might spark something to pull her from the dark place she was in. Her expression all night reminded him of the first time he'd seen her at the Paper Lantern, while she waited for Stronghold to show up.

It was that disappointed, dejected and unsettled look that made him hope beyond all hope that he could help her. What was quite clear was that Stronghold couldn't see passed the fact that his father could have been killed? It was a feat not many had accomplished and yet Layla's parents knew some of his weaknesses due to their close ties.

Who knew what was churning up in Will's head, seeing as how his own father couldn't trust _his friends_? What hope did Will have trusting the ones he had? Especially Layla, a voice said in the back of Warren's mind. It was a lot easier for Will to accept Warren as a friend, seeing as how the Commander had locked his dad up. This was why Warren could sort of understand Stronghold's position of mistrust. It wasn't fair to Layla though, especially since they'd practically been friends for a long time.

Just as more thoughts began to flood over the previous ones he heard the door to the bathroom click and Layla stepped out.

"Hey," he said quietly, sitting upright.

"Hey," she replied timidly, shuffling out of the bathroom while he let out a little yawn."I'm sorry, you must be tired from working tonight and I've kept you up."

"No, I'm fine."

She took a seat beside him on the couch she'd been sitting on before and focused her eyes on one of the four windows across from her.

"I'm sorr—,"

"Don't say it again, there's no need to be sorry," he cut her off. "You should have called me when it happened and you would have already been here, but look—its okay. I—well—,"

"Yeah I know," she took this time to turn her head towards him so that they were making eye contact. "I know you must have some questions for me, but I'm really tired and I know you must be too…"

"We don't have to do all the talking tonight, but I just need to know you're alright," this time he looked away, feeling out of his element.

"You want the truth or a sugary lie?" she asked in a lower octave, almost a whisper.

"We're friends Hippie, you can just be honest," he found that his gloves were really interesting at that moment.

"I feel horrible," she began with a sigh. "I don't understand why they—I just—ah—I don't know Warren. Everything was so _good_ a few weeks ago and we were as happy as can be. This came out of nowhere and I can't figure it out! I spent two weeks going through the _entire_ house looking for clues. I didn't find _anything_!" she raked her hands through her still wet hair and scrunched up her body. "It's maddening that I can't figure this all out! I at times don't even want to believe that it's really real, you know?" she turned her attention back to Warren who had been watching her the entire time.

"Trust me I do understand," he began.

"I…forgot…" her eyes grew wide. "Warren I'm so sorry! I should have called you right away, but I just felt so embarrassed and—,"

"I know, but next time something happens you'd better call. Then again I suppose I should have been a better friend and just found you."

"It's not your fault; you've been pulling double shifts, what with all the crazy fires."

"You've been keeping track?" he smiled a little. She rolled her eyes at him then and for a second he felt something soft and warm sift through his chest.

"Of course I did," she looked down at her own hands as they fiddled with yet another baggy outfit. This time it was a sleeveless blue shirt with black sweat pants. He'd have to ask her about her different clothing later. "I'm proud of you," she mumbled, slightly embarrassed.

"So, have you talked to Will?" he found himself asking, trying to change the subject and steer away from the awkward silence that had fallen over them.

"No," she mumbled. "I don't blame him though." she said quickly. "I guess it's different when you can't trust a lot of people in your life. Even before this I'm sure he was on guard about who he befriended. Now it's all going to be different," he could practically hear the sorrow dripping out of her words. "By association I'm not safe, I suppose."

He found his hand move on its own accord land on her shoulder, rubbing slightly attempting to comfort her.

"He'll come around."

Her shoulders slumped and she leaned forward, his hand falling away.

"Can I just go to sleep for now?" she asked looking up at him with her big brown eyes.

"You don't have to ask, sleep whenever you want," he got up and motioned for her to follow him. "You can take my room, I hardly sleep in there anyways," he shrugged as she stood beside him at the entrance to his room. "It's a pretty big bed so feel free to spread out. If you need me you can find me out in the living room," he stated then raised an eyebrow. "Alright?"

"You don't have to give up your room for me; I can sleep on the couch."

"I already called the couch, so you're gonna have to deal with it," he shrugged hoping that she wouldn't fight him on it. She'd be appreciating it later when she woke up well rested. His nerves were definitely shot but Warren continued to come off as aloof. It was the only way he could really function, having no experience dealing with someone else's emotional state or lack thereof. The main thing for him was that he acted like himself and not an overprotective friend.

"Are you sure?"

He glanced down at her as she did the same by looking up; a smirk was already forming on his lips.

"I am, get some sleep would you?" he grabbed one of the many blankets off his bed and a pillow then headed out. "Good night." he told her.

"Hey Warren," she called as he threw the pillow and blanket on the couch. He turned and looked thoughtful.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks," she hesitated for a second, "for everything I mean."

"No problem."

"Good night," she called before disappearing into the room, though she didn't shut the door.

"Yeah, good night Hippie," he whispered, though she couldn't hear.

As he lay on the couch watching flickers of light on the ceiling he allowed his thoughts to wander to the brown eyed girl sleeping in his room. With the memory of her smiling face playing like a reel of film in his mind Warren felt himself drifting off to sleep.

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Panda Note:** Well there's chapter two! I've got about 200 words written so far for chapter three. I hope you'll drop me a few reviews, I think I'm sort of a review whore now so give me some lovin' LOL. No seriously, you gotta!

Clicky click my peeps.


	3. Chapter 3

**Panda Note:** Here's the next chapter! Booga Booga! That's all I have to say now.

**Disclaimer:** Don't Own, you know the drill, go read.

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**The Apple Doesn't Fall**

**Chapter Three

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"Hey, Warren," called a grinning Layla across the table at The Paper Lantern.

He found that his vision was slightly distorted and the only thing he could really see was Layla's warm eyes looking back at him. It was almost like a memory, her hair straight and pulled back a little by a flowery clip**,** while her big chocolate eyes danced with joy before him.

It had to be a dream or a memory, because they had not had their usual dinner on Saturday in weeks. He could not remember the last time he had seen her hair so bright or the curves of her lips so active. He never realized he had taken so much notice as to how much he loved those things about her.

The air smelled like it had just rained and the earth was releasing its fragrances. Fresh air often reminded him of Layla, when she was finished in her garden and beaming with pride at a job well done.

The coolness of the table felt so real to the tips of Warren's fingers**,** while warmth spread through his body as Layla's eyes laughed jubilantly. He could practically taste nervousness on his tongue while her hand moved across the table towards his. .

What kind of memory-dream was this where he felt out of sorts with Layla?

"What?" his voice sounded like he was submersed in water.

There were no words coming from her rosy lips but rather strange sounds around their table. At first he thought he was imagining them, but they continued. It started slow then grew louder; running water, clanking of dishes being moved around and soft edited curses being muttered.

"Did you just say—," he began but stopped himself as he felt his mouth fall open.

Layla was moving slowly as parts of her limbs began to distort. There was a coy grin on her lips as her face drew nearer.

Warren felt the confusion on his face take shape as things started to fade away. It was not until he really heard the sounds clearly that he cracked his eyes opened.

It was still pretty dark in the apartment, with just a little strip of sunlight showing over the horizon. The clock on the wall read six forty-eight in the morning. It was Saturday and Warren was awake three hours before he usually got up. As he sat up the red cotton blanket fell to the floor and the cool air hit his exposed arms.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you up?" said a soft voice to his right, in the kitchen. He glanced over and found Layla standing at the counter with a spatula in her hand.

"No," he lied and got up.

"Don't lie," she frowned. "I—um—made you something to eat," she waved the spatula back and forth as he came closer. Layla looked like she just rolled out of bed, hair in disarray; he rather liked this look on her.

"You made me eggs?" he was shocked though he would never admit it aloud. Layla hated messing with anything that had a face but she went out of her way to make him something for breakfast.

"I know it doesn't repay you for letting me stay here but I just thought—,"

"Thanks," he smiled a little and it silenced her rant that he knew was coming.

She allowed glance of a smile tickle the corners of her lips before it vanished. Warren did not know if he had imagined it or if it was a trick of the lighting in his kitchen.

Layla turned her attention away from Warren then and removed the eggs from the skillet and onto a place. He took the plate extended to him and looked down at it. Despite never eating eggs Layla knew what she was doing with them.

"What do you usually eat?" he asked placing the plate on the counter, feeling odd about eating without her.

"I already ate," she answered, lifting the skillet off the stove and placed it in the sink.

"When did you get up?" he asked scooping a nice sized amount of egg into his mouth.

Layla picked at something on the counter, averting her eyes from his.

"Four-ish," she shrugged.

"Four? Why did you get up so early?" by this point most of the egg had disappeared off his plate.

"Could not sleep anymore," the tone of her voice was mild, as if she was not invested at all in the conversation.

"You want to talk about it?" he asked moving behind her, toward the sink.

"Not really."

"You know you can, that's what I'm here for," he said from behind her, leaning against the sink.

It was then that Layla turned around and looked him in the eyes.

"I know, but honestly what is there left to say, Warren? It happened and now I'm alone. They're gone and I do not know where they are or if they're ever coming home. I don't know anything," she scrunched up her brows and folded her arms. It was then that he looked at her and saw that she had removed the shirt she was wearing the night before and had on a black t-shirt this morning. What really caught his attention was the Guns 'n Roses logo on the front.

He had to know what this was all about, now.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked quietly.

"Uh, sure?" she looked confused as she waited for his question.

"Why are you wearing a Guns 'n Roses t-shirt and those pants and that sweater yesterday?" he rambled out.

"Oh," she started frowning.

"Is it too personal?" he did not think anything could be 'personal' between them. Maybe before it was not but now it seemed like she was locked away within herself.

"No, I just don't like to talk about it," she looked away.

"You don't have to tell me I was just curious," he tried to smile but it did not quite reach his eyes.

"No, its okay," she took in a breath, "I had an older brother and these were his clothes. He was kind of a metal-head and a troublemaker," she smiled a little at that. "When I was ten he died and I kept all his clothes because they remind me of when he would hold me when I was sad or cold. He knew that I didn't like when the seasons changed and that I hated snow," she shrugged then, "I just feel better having these because it feels like he's here."

Without a word Warren stepped in front of her and pulled her into a hug. Her shock was evident by her lack of movement and probably because he never initiated a hug before.

The softness of her flaming hair was the first thing to register in his mind as he continued to hold her. It was a gut reaction to do it and now he could not seem to detach his person from hers. She had been stiff in his arms at first but slowly began to mesh into them, feeling unsure of this new contact. He did not know the protocol for hugs, never really giving one before. The whole experience was not unpleasant, but different. A different he could see himself repeating with Layla, hopefully under happier circumstances. Against his better judgment he reluctantly let her go and stepped back, remembering his place.

What surprised him more was that she was still gripping his shirt, even after his arms had fallen to her forearms. Without a glance or word from Layla she stepped closer burying her face into his shirt and gripped the fabric into her hands.

If this had been a year ago he would have pushed her away, telling her not to do this. It definitely was not a year ago and he was not pushing her away like his common sense was telling him to.

He was not quite sure _why_ this felt like a _bad_ situation, her being so close to him and _liking it._

It all started to really sink in when her grip loosened and her hands worked their way up to his neck disappearing into his mane.

All thoughts flew out of his mind as their faces grew in closer to one another. Some part of him knew that this was not the right time, which led to another thought. _Was there ever going to be a right time? _For that matter, _why would there ever need to be a right time for this? What was this anyways? _

With gentle hands, must to his surprise, he stopped her from toeing the line over that delicate line of friendship. He watched as her big brown eyes looked into his and went through a series of conflicting emotions. When confusion, embarrassment and realization disappeared let out a sigh.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I just did that," she confessed, but he could see something else play through her eyes as she pushed out a smile.

"Don't worry about it," he allowed his arms to fall then and they stepped a few feet apart.

"So…what's the plan for today?" she asked, sounding much like the old Layla he knew.

He did not know what his plan was aside for a very long cold shower and a pep-talk with himself. That is exactly what needed to happen, soon.

"I'm going to jump in the shower then we're going to talk with the principal about your absence."

"Do we have to? Can I just never go back?"

"You have to, thems the rules," he shrugged while she pouted at him.

With nothing more to say he turned and headed for his bedroom to grab a change of clothes. While inside the bedroom he took notice of the neatly made bed and her belongings still in the duffle bag she brought with her.

The shower was much needed though he really wished he had turned on a little of the hot water to balance out the temperature. All thoughts of anything naughty vanished from his mind as he inhaled deep breaths while trying to continue with the shower.

Cleaned and clothed he exited the bathroom and found Layla straightening up the living room. She closed the blinds and then turned around in surprise as he entered.

"Hey," she said now wearing the large sweater again.

"Hey," he replied, "you ready?"

She nodded and followed him out the door.

**

* * *

**

Principal Powers lived in a remote area in the wooded section of the city. She rather liked the privacy it provided; Warren knew that she would appreciate this visit though. He parked his bike a few feet from the long driveway and helped Layla with the helmet; it had become tangled in her hair. Layla looked at him and was pleading emphatically for him to just forget it and take her home, she had asked ten times during the drive.

"Can we just go back to your apartment?" she asked yet again, fidgeting with the oversized sweater she was wearing.

"Layla," started Warren, holding her by the shoulders, "Powers is going to understand and everything will be fine."

"How can you be so sure?" Layla asked eyes large and scared.

"Do you trust me?" Warren asked squinting at Layla.

He was not sure what the answer would be, but Warren hoped for the best outcome.

"Of course," Layla stated unwaveringly.

"Then trust that I know what I'm talking about," he smiled down at her, feeling ten times lighter.

"Okay," she nodded and allowed him to grasp her forearm.

When he talked to Principal Powers before they left it was clear that there was much to discuss. Warren had been through this before, when his father went to prison. Principal Powers had been the only adult to treat him like a human being, besides his mother of course.

This is exactly what Layla needed, someone in her corner who had some power in the hero world.

Warren knew what was to come in the next few months and it turned up the temperature deep inside of his body. He knew what the kids were going to say behind her back or ever to her face, the looks, the fear and loathing. What he was not so sure of was how his dear redheaded friend would _handle_ the treatment.

There had been many scenarios that had gone on in his mind but none seemed exact.

The door opened and a grave looking Principal Powers greeted them.

**

* * *

Panda Note:** So this is a super short chapter, I've been holding onto it for weeks now and I thought I should hand it over. I'm hoping to end the weekend soon and get on with the story. But this seems to happen a lot in my stories. I tend to stretch out days when they could have ended chapters before. So I'm hoping the next one will end this sting of plot and we can get to the other fun stuff. I have some idea about the path this one is taking. I talked it over with an awesome chick I know who writes on here too look her up her name is Luna Moody. That's al for now, I'm not inspired and I think I got a little too inside my head so forgive me! I just need a little boost. So if you could send me a review and tell me I HAVE TO WRITE MORE. I need motivation and encouragement. :D

Thanks so much!


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